Sam's Heart
by SupernaturallyCharged
Summary: There's something wrong with the youngest Winchester. It seems unconcerning until he collapses whilst on a tough case and changes for the worse. Staying strong used to be easy, now it's a chore just standing up. Dean hides his pride, whilst Sam hides his secret from the not so far past. (Sick!Sam) (No slash...not even if you squint.)
1. The Case

It was freezing. Christ, this was Antarctic weather even though he was inside. Bloody global warming. It was a standard case, a couple of werewolves, and a few fallen angels meddling with things as per normal. The case was coming to a fair stand still and he'd left Sam to do some more research whilst he got supplies. Grabbing a few beers from the bar downstairs and not much else, Dean headed back up to the motel room.

The beers were still freezing by the time Dean reached the shared room on the fourth floor. The elevator was down because the mechanics had malfunctioned due to the cold. He hated motels this big but the weather was so torrential, this place was the only thing within a 50-mile radius. The snow and ice sheeted down from the large rounded window at the end of the floor. It was strangely hypnotizing. Room 404 was near the end and he felt the breeze from the large window and he unlocked the door with his free hand.

'Hey, they only had some Copenhagen crap but it beats going outside.' He said as he walked in.

Sam was intently studying on his laptop, the cable almost tripping Dean up as he popped open the bottles and stuck them on Sam's desk. Almost by force of habit, Sam moved the beer further away from his laptop, without taking his eyes off the screen. There was a reason he ended up with a new laptop every 4 months. Sam's eyes looked a little bloodshot, but it was a perk of the job.

'It's fine. OK, so you were right about the case.'

A smug look on Dean's spread across his lips.

'Aren't I always.' He replied.

Sam didn't even bother looking up – he was far too used to this smugness.

'Well you were also wrong.'

The smugness was wiped off.

'So, basically, we've got our bog standard werewolves, right? And like you said – the angels are corrupted and they're hunting them and killing them instead of doing their normal angel duty. But that's the thing; these aren't angels. At least, not _really._ They're called 'Anima Vegats' and they're essentially shape shifters.'

'Woo woo, hang on…shape shifters?'

'Yes…but no. I'm not finished.'

'Of course you're not – go on.'

Dean reached for his beer, knowing it was going to be a long explanation. The sleet outside continued to pound down.

'Well these 'Anima Vegats' _are_ shape shifters in the sense that their true form is not their current form. But, and this is a big but, they can only shape shift once. Whatever they shape shift into; they have to die as that form. Their true form is invisible to the naked eye, and they go unnoticed. But once they choose a form, they must live like that forever. And there's no changing back to any other form.'

'Right.' Dean said as he took a drink of beer, 'so you're saying, that these Vegats, they shape shifted into Angels because it's the best form to be? They essentially never die.'

'Exactly.'

'But hang on, how can we tell what's a Vegat and what's an Angel if they take on a human vessel?'

Sam furrowed his brow.

'This took some working out. They only take the _form_ of an Angel so there are certain things they can't do. And one of the things is killing werewolves. Werewolves are their biggest threat and I found out they hunt Vegats. I know, you're wondering how are the werewolves dead then? Well they're trapping them and starving them to death. Hence, why they were so emaciated when they were dead. It's the only way the Vegats can kill them. With the werewolves gone they don't have to hide in fear.'

Sam took a deep breath and stood up.

'How do we kill them?' Dean said, knowing the answer wasn't going to one he'd want to hear.

'_We_ don't. We can't. But the werewolves can. We capture one. Offer it a Vegat for dinner and let it do the dirty work.'

'Right. But that still doesn't explain how we tell the different between a Vegat and real Angel. I'm gonna' take a wild guess and say only werewolves can sense Vegats.'

Sam walked over to the bed, and looked at it painfully, it had been a long day and it felt like Dean was just full of questions.

'I don't know Dean. I guess so but how do we get a werewolf? And how do we convince it to hunt a Vegat? And how many Vegats are there? It just seems…too much.'

The wind battered viciously against the window, the moon was in view…it would be a full moon in three days, on Wednesday.

Finally, after what seems like a good ten minutes of awkward standing, Dean spoke up.

'OK well there's not much we can do right now anyway. I guess we just get some rest, start afresh in the morning.'

Dean finished his beer and looked over at Sam's untouched one.

'You gonna' drink that?' He said.

'No. Have it.'

Dean finished the bottle in a matter of seconds, sending him to a light and airy stupor.

There were two fairly generous sized beds, and Dean took off his pants and shirt, threw them in the bathroom and lay down. He was asleep in ten minutes.

Sam, on the other hand, stayed awake. He couldn't help thinking this was all pointless. All the hunting just for something else to come along. He could hear Bobby's voice '_It's the family business Sam'_ yet how this '_family business'_ crap had killed so many of his closest friends and family.


	2. The Ride

Sam lay awake until daylight, fully clothed, mulling his constant thought over in his head. It felt like demons in his head – a dark matter seeping into his brain and corrupting every positive thought he had. At 7am exactly, he got up, struggling to move from his stiff body and headed to the bathroom. His reflection almost scared him, and he had seen a hell of a lot of scary crap. He washed his face, to no improvement and gave his hair a quick tussle. Dean slept soundly until 10:46am, when he woke and went straight to the bathroom, changing and bypassing a sunken Sam sitting at the desk, eyes fixated on the screen yet again.

'Holy crap Sam. You look like Hell and trust me, I saw better looking creatures in Dante's inferno.' He said as he walked out the bathroom.

'Yeah well, perks of the job, eh?"

Sam stood up to grab some coffee but his lack of sleep got the better of him and he swayed on this spot. Little spotlights popped into his vision like bad TV static.

'Whoa, Sammy?'

Dean had only been a few feet away and stepped over, almost resting a hand on Sam's shoulder, but thought better.

'Yeah? I'm fine, I'm fine, Dean, I just stood up too fast.'

Sam avoided Dean's concerned gaze as he pushed passed him to get a coffee from the pot. Sam's sunken eyes and paling skin didn't go unnoticed.

'OK, so these Vegat attacks, I'm thinking of taking a trip to see Bobby and ask him if he knows anyone that can lend a hand.' Dean said, buckling his belt.

Car journey, great, just what I need right now, thought Sam.

'Yeah. OK. Haven't seen Bobby in a while. Can't hurt.'

He didn't want to argue, not whilst he was feeling this crap. He had already gulped down his coffee at lightening speed and waited for the buzz.

Sam packed up his laptop and the few belongings he had. Taking his time to wrap the laptop cable round, he put everything back meticulously as possible to waste time. It was what he was good at doing; wasting time. Wasting time hunting dead ends, trying to save people, trying to save himself. Sam shook his head. He didn't know what made him think that. He didn't need saving.

'Right – I'm ready Dean.' Sam called into the bathroom, where Dean was grooming his hair.

They checked out, with Dean grabbing some more beers for the ride to Bobby's. The weather was a little better now, but it was still a good four hours to Bobby's town.

The ride started off pretty smooth, although the devastation of the weather was all too obvious. Trees were strewn across the road, but Dean drove recklessly and avoided them without much of a hassle.

About 2 hours in, they stopped at 'Pepper's One Stop Shop'. It was run by a busty redheaded woman in her 30's, with a wide smile and freckles littering her face. Dean had no trouble being neighborly as Sam picked up a couple of sub sandwiches and a blueberry pie whilst Dean had a riveting conservation with Pepper.

'No beer'? Dean said to Sam, as he piled his goods onto the counter.

'Here ya' go.' Pepper said in a thick indescribable Southern accent, as she reached over behind the counter for a few beers and they hit the hardwood counter. 'You'll can have those on tha 'ouse boys.'

'Cheers Peps.' Dean said, as he gave her a wink for payment, and headed out back towards the impala.

Dean unwrapped his sandwich with force and shoved it in his mouth, clearly ravenous. Sam, however, picked the salad and pickles out, slowly chewing them.

'Come on Sam, meat's the best part, you gotta' know that by now.' Dean said, just as he finished his entire sandwich.

'I'm not hungry, you can have the rest.' Sam said, passing his half unwrapped sandwich over.

Dean took it without question and ate it just as ravenously. He started the Impala back up with his mouth full and they were on the road again, about half way to Bobby's.

About an hour later, the silence was broken.

'Mm. Dean. Stop. Stop the car.' Sam managed to get out from his tight lips, waving his arms for Dean.

Dean didn't have time to look over; the Impala skidded to a halt on the side of the dirt road.

Sam half-fell, half-clambered, out the passenger seat door and he retched, his stomach was empty aside from two pickles and some lettuce and the sound of stomach acid coming up from his throat was painful in itself.

This wasn't the first time either of them had puked on a car ride, but the sound was horrible.

'Sam?' Dean said, as he unbuckled his seatbelt enough to reach over and offer and awkward sort of brotherly comfort.

'I'm fine. Just car. Sickness.' He said between retching and trying to catch his breath back.

Dean handed him a tissue from the glove box, and he gratefully took it, despite its age and wiped his mouth.

Sam sat back in his seat and took in a long, deep breath.

'You sure you're all right? When was the last time you ate...do you want some pie?' Dean was useless at comforting; Bobby was better at that sort of thing.

'No. No pie. Just carsickness.' He said again, to reiterate his point.

Thinking about it, what _was_ the last time he ate? He had been doing so much research on this case he hadn't really thought about it. But he couldn't stomach anything right now, not with the taste of stomach acid still sitting like plaque on his tongue and teeth.

'OK, well we'll be at Bobby's in about an hour, so just tell me if you're gonna puke again because I'm not prepared to get this Impala dirty again.'

Dean was referring to the time, some time last year, when Sam bought a cherry pie and forgot about it, leaving cream and sticky cherry sauce to seep in between the seats at the back. Dean made Sam scrub those seats until his hands were raw. It took him almost six hours to get the congealed sauce from the cracks in the seats.

The memory of this kept Sam occupied for the next hour, and he made a mental note to get the blueberry pie from the back as soon as they stopped.


	3. The Fall

The Impala slowly came to a halt outside Bobby's place.

'Dean, don't forget the pie.' Sam said, his words a little more slurred than he intended. He felt drunk. Like someone had drugged the air. The more he breathed in, the less the World seemed it was the right way up.

'Ha-ha Sam. I won't, not after last time.' Dean said, as he clambered out of the car, grabbing the pie, beers and their bags.

Sam knew he had to get out the car eventually, so he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, still in his rigid position. He somehow found the strength and clarity to scramble out the car but gravity didn't seem right. He blinked a few times and closed the door behind him. His legs felt like knitting needles holding a elephant up.

'Sam! Hurry up!' Dean called, as he started to walk away but stopped and turned around when Sam didn't respond. He stuck the supplies he was juggling on the roof of the Impala and walked round to the passenger side when he couldn't see his brother anywhere.

Sam was half slouched, leaning against the side of the Impala, looking confused as Hell. His face was unnaturally white and his eyes were almost crimson in contrast. His body was slack and swaying, and without warning he slid down the side of the Impala, dropping right to his knees – his eyes rolling back into his head. It looked awkward and uncomfortable and Dean's eyes widened in shock.

'Sammy!?' S-Sammy?'

Dean lunged forward towards his brother, grabbed his shoulders, and gave them a shake - perhaps a little too roughly.

'Christ. Right. BOBBY! BOBBY!' He called as loud of he could, craning his neck over the Impala, not wanting to let go of Sam.

Sam's eyes fluttered open as he vaguely looked around and looked down; seeing himself on the floor.

'Dean? What...w-what are you doing? The pie, Dean. I told you to get the pie.'

'Dean!? What in the God's name is going on? Oh my God, Sam.' It was Bobby's gruff voice, as he appeared next to them, wheeling himself to around to Sam's other side.

'Bobby, it's Sammy. There's something wrong. He puked in the car, and he just, he just dropped Bobby. I don't know what to do.' Dean's voice was panicked, and Sam could sense it, even in his weak condition.

'Bobby...Dean...I. Am. Fine. I just got a little dizzy, and thought I'd sit down.' Sam said, his eyes fully open now. And, with great effort, he pushed himself of his knees and leaned against the Impala again for support, still swaying a little.

'Dizzy my ass.' Came Bobby's voice. 'You look like Hell. Dean, when was the last time he ate?'

'Hey. I can answer for myself.' Said Sam, annoyed and offended. 'We had a sandwich this morning.'

'No Sam, _I _had a sandwich this morning, and then I ate yours. You weren't hungry. Then you puked and you just sat there, daydreaming for the next hour.' Retaliated Dean, with more anger than necessary.

Sam stayed silent, still supporting himself against the Impala.

'Can you walk Sam?' Said Bobby, not daring to move away in fear he would become weak again.

'Yes, Bobby, I can walk. Dean where's the stuff?' Sam said as he held his breath and tightened his legs, praying they wouldn't give in again.

'I got it Sammy, just get yourself up to the house, I'll give you a hand.'

'Dean. I said I'm fine, I can walk by myself.'

Sam defiantly pushed past Dean with a lot more strength than normally needed; his legs still feeling like they were too thin for his muscly frame. He didn't look back and Bobby wheeled behind him, not taking his eyes of Sam.

'Right, so Bobby,' Sam said, taking the attention away from him, 'do you know anything about Anima Vegats?'

Bobby eyed him suspiciously but didn't push the matter further.

'Only that they're shape shifters. Ellen dealt with one a few years back, nearly tore her arm in two when she found out it was a Vegat. Why you askin'?'

Dean opened a beer for all three of them, and made of a point of putting Sam's right next him so he'd drink it.

'Well,' Sam continued, 'we know werewolves can sense the difference between Vegats and human angels. And because of this, they're hunting the werewolves and killing them by starvation. Vegats are a threat to us, and who knows what they'll do once the werewolves are gone. We can't risk them coming out of hiding.'

Sam reached for his beer and brought it to his lips but the smell of bitter malt made him feel nauseous and he put it back down on the table. Both Dean and Bobby happily drank theirs without hesitation.

'Ellen used to work with a woman;' Started Bobby 'Her name was err…Sally? No wait...Sandy. That was it. She wasn't much older than you guys and her Mom taught her every thing she knew about those kinda things.'

'What happened to her Mom' ask Dean, draining the last of his beer.

'Oh Julie? Cancer got her. Poor woman. I met her a couple times down at the bar near that giant statue 'bout a mile off this road. She was a good woman, they both were.'


	4. The Sickness

After a good hour or two of discussing Sandy and Julie's work, it was getting darker, and sleet was coming down yet again, pounding the windows, meaning the roads still weren't great for riding in the dark.

'Right boys,' Said Bobby, after a long session of talking, 'it's getting late and I'm not having you drive anywhere in this weather, not with Sam still looking like death.'

Sam didn't look up, there was no point arguing with that.

'I've got some leftover chicken in the fridge; you can stay tonight and we'll all head off to Julie's in the morning, I wanna see how she's holdin' up. Dean, why don't you chop a few potatoes up and Sam, just…well just try not to pass out.'

Sam could have protested, but his throat felt like he had swallowed a razor blade, his stomach felt like a deflated balloon and his head felt like it was barely on his neck. He had managed to keep reasonably quiet in the last hour, only butting in when Dean was going off the point. Instead, he just sat there, hoping his body wouldn't give way and it was just some sort of aggressive flu that would fade off soon. His appetite certainly wasn't coming back though. There was something about the way he felt that couldn't be explained in terms of physical illness, and he knew it.

Bobby went off to call Sandy, and Dean got to work on the potatoes.

'OW! God damn it!' Came Dean's voice a few minutes later.

Bobby was still on the phone to Sandy, warning her that they'd be up tomorrow and the weather was still like crap.

'Dean?' Said Sam, standing up from the kitchen chair, 'What happened?'

'Bloody knife's fault.' He said with a grimace as he showed Sam his finger, which he had clearly nicked with the end of a knife. A steady stream of droplets of blood seeped out the gash and onto the kitchen floor.

Sam had always been nonchalant about blood. When Dean was twenty, he had cut himself carving a wooden arrow and Sam patched it up even though the wound was deep and aggressively pouring sticky crimson blood. This was only a nick but as he watched the flow of blood pump out the little cut on Dean's finger, he felt his own blood rapidly drain away from his face.

'Sam? It's just a nick, it's fine.' Said Dean, as he wrapped some cloth around it to stop the bleeding. He felt embarrassed staring at his brother, and so turned back around and finished the rest of the potatoes, dumping them into the vat of boiling salt water.

Yet again, it felt like gravity was too powerful and yet simultaneously didn't exist, and Sam grabbed the chair behind him to steady himself. His head wasn't even on his shoulders anymore. The dripping of the blood was replaying in his mind like a bad acid trip; little dots appearing in front of his eyes like stars. He missed his grip on the chair behind him and slipped backwards, out of consciousness, just as Bobby was coming into the kitchen to witness the whole thing.

'Dean!' Bobby yelled, signaling towards Sam.

Dean dove backwards towards Sam, just grabbing under his arms in the nick of time and easing his brother to the floor, knowing he couldn't do much damage there. Another split second and Sam would have caused a hell of a lot of damage to himself.

'I told him to try not to pass out,' Started Bobby, looking sympathetically at Sam, 'did he say anything before he went?'

'No…he didn't Bobby. I cut myself and he went all white and weird then I turned back around, and that's when you came in. He doesn't give a crap about blood, we've dealt with it for log enough.' Said Dean, turning back to his unconscious brother on the kitchen floor, 'Sammy!? Sam - if you can hear me wake up now. Just wake up Sam, it's Dean.' He finished, shaking his brother again.

'Dean, I can tell from here he's out cold; he's not waking up anytime soon. Right. Let me get on the couch and use my wheelchair to take him to a bed.'

Bobby wheeled himself out, and with great upper arm strength, hoisted himself out his chair and onto the settee. Dean grabbed the chair and awkwardly lifted his brother into it. He didn't suit the chair, and his body was so much lighter than Dean remembered it being. In reality, he could have carried him.

Once Sam was placed somewhat comfortably on the nearest spare bed, Dean got a glass of water, and the uneaten blueberry pie and placed them both of on the bedside desk.

He's gotta' be just sick, thought Dean, defiant that he wouldn't call Cas for help. Not this time. He needs food, sleep and time. Nothing else. No special Angel power, just good old time.


	5. The Heat

It was a good few hours later when Sam awoke, dazed and confused. The first thing he reached for was the water, gulping it down like it was a golden elixir. Next, he eyed the pie. It looked nice and he'd always been a fan of blueberries since he was a kid. Dean hadn't left a fork so he used his middle finger to scrape some thickly whipped cream off the top. It tasted foreign. Like he hadn't tasted food in so long, it made his mouth spasm. Nevertheless, the sweetness was welcoming and he needed the energy.

Dean and Bobby had long finished eating, Bobby was watching some crime drama and Dean was taking over Sam's research, with not much success.

'God damn I don't know how Sam does this.' He started, facing Bobby 'If there was ever a time I needed him, now would be nice.'

'Ever a time you needed me?' Came a familiar voice from the doorway.

Sam had made his way into the living room, weak and frail but standing on his own two feet.

'Sam, you're awake.' Said Dean, instinctively heading towards Sam. 'Jesus, you were out for hours, gave us a right scare, you feelin' alright buddy?'

Bobby had also turned around, facing the two brothers.

'What do you mean, ever a time you needed me? You always need me Dean. Research this; research that, it's all I ever do for you. Without me, you'd be nothing.' Said Sam, not taking his eyes of his brother.

Sam's voice didn't sound like his own; it was gruffer and harder; like he really meant what he was saying.

'Um Sam, buddy, whatchu' talkin' about? We're a team. You know, '_the family business' _and all that._' _Replied Dean, mostly bemused but also slightly hurt.

'Yea. Funny that Dean. We don't seem to have an awful lot of family left in this little business of ours.' Sam said with a bitter tone.

Bobby had had enough.

'All right Sam, cut the crap. What and who in the hell has got your knickers in a twist?'

Bobby regretted what he had said when he saw the look on Sam's face; it was the same look when he had been possessed – the same look that he prayed would never appear on anyone's face again.

Sam limped towards Bobby, standing so his waistline was at his face; Bobby held his ground, not moving.

'Well it's easy for you to say. You've not exactly pulled the short straw. Rather convenient being in that wheelchair of yours isn't it? You get to do all the easy work.'

'What the Hell Sam!' Said Dean, 'That's bull and you know it.'

Bobby looked angry, but not furious. He knew this wasn't Sam. It was the illness he had, clouding his judgment.

'Sam, you're ill, look at you. You look like you're burnin' up, and like you haven't eaten in three days. Just head back to bed, maybe some more water as well.'

Bobby calmly wheeled himself to give him and Sam a little more distance, and then when he was sure Sam wasn't going to do anything stupid, he got the first aid kit from the pantry.

When he came back, Sam's face had relaxed a little and he didn't look so tense.

'Dean, I don't normally do this nancy pancy girly crap, but take Sam's temperature. He's hot and I don't think he's really with it.'

Dean was still in shock from Sam's little outburst, and the brother's were looking at each other like they were strangers. Despite this, Dean unzipped the first aid kit without hesitation and pulled out the thermometer.

Sam let Dean stuff the plastic stick under his tongue, and sat down without protest, waiting for the beep of the thermometer. Bobby was right; it was like Sam just wasn't with it.

**104.2**

The thermometer flashed and Dean showed it to Bobby, both exchanging looks of horror. Dean would have rather single handedly taken on a wendigo than seen that number.

'Sammy?' Began Dean, trying not to show his panic in his voice, 'Why don't we get you some water? And maybe something cold whilst we're at it. You got any ice Bobby?' The fear he was feeling escaped a little in his voice.

Sam didn't respond to his name, he just sat there like a bad child being punished, his weary eyes vacant and his dry lips slightly parted.

'OK well first thing's first, let's get you to bed. Again.' Dean said, treating Sam like an overly sensitive toddler, afraid of pushing the wrong buttons.

It was so strange guiding his brother back to the bed, and Sam just obeying. This definitely wasn't Sam.

Bobby went back to the kitchen, grabbing the whole ice tray out the freezer and a pitcher of water. He poured Sam another glass of water. Sam drank it in a few short gulps. He wrapped the tray around a cloth and rested it on his forehead. Sam didn't protest but let his eyes close to prevent the melted ice dripping down his face.

Bobby and Dean talked in quiet whispers as they took of his shoes and socks he had previously slept in, not knowing whether Sam could comprehend or not.

'I'm gonna' ring Sandy tomorrow. I'll ask if she can take the trip up here. Something tells me he's not in any fit state to be driving but you need this case sorting soon.' Whispered Bobby, as he moved the pitcher full of ice-cold water next to Sam's bed.

'Yea the sooner this little case is over with, the sooner I can start worrying about our sick little prince over here.' Replied Dean, as he unnecessarily fiddled with the covers, and then un-did Sam's shirt buttons. He was still reeling over what Sam had said. Did he really mean it? Was this the truth?

Sam fell asleep pretty instantaneously. It seemed like all his body wanted to do was to shut down and protect itself. The ice had half-melted, and Bobby took it off his forehead, which was still intensely hot.

'You sure you don't wanna' get him some help? Like a doctor? Or you know, that old buddy o' yours up in Heaven.' Said Bobby, as they walked out the room, satisfied Sam had received all the necessary care.

'No. He doesn't need a doctor I can fix him myself, he's just sick and I'm not taking him back there again. Fever'l break in a day or two. I'm not having them put God knows what drugs into his body. As for our little Angel, Cas serves people that are dying. He doesn't need our help; we don't need his. Simple as Bobby.'

And with that, Dean headed to the spare room, and shut the door behind him, leaving Bobby sitting on his own. Dean only prayed out of satire and humour. But this situation was neither. He stopped himself at the last second from going on his knees. He knew Cas would hear and the angels had done enough meddling. Maybe it was a brother's intuition but there was something wrong with Sam. Something that couldn't be cured in any hospital.


	6. The Pride

Dean didn't sleep particularly well. He had vivid nightmares of Sam leaving him to hunt on his own, and being lost and betrayed by everyone around him. He gratefully woke at 8am, and headed straight to Sam's room before doing anything.

Sam must have woken up some time in the night; half the blueberry pie had been eaten and the water jug was almost empty. Judging by the state of the room, he'd also gone to the bathroom. He lay in the bed, one arm resting on his stomach, the other hanging out the bed. Dean smiled; Sam hated that bed – he was far too big for it, even when he was a kid. His fever hadn't broken yet, and there was sweat encasing the sheets underneath him and soaking through his hairline.

Dean headed back to his room, giving his teeth a quick clean and fixing his hair, he grabbed a washcloth and soaked it with cold water. First he cleaned his own face, and then rinsing it out again, he headed back to where Sam was sleeping.

Bobby came into Sam's room just as Dean was sitting beside the bed, pressing a flannel on his wrists and head. It was strange seeing Dean care for his brother like that; they had always been so 'manly' that Bobby forgot that Dean had a good heart.

'How's he doing?' Said Bobby, making Dean spin around in surprise.

'Oh. Morning Bobby. I think he'll be fine. I was just, you know, cooling him off a bit.' Dean said, a little embarrassed that Bobby had walked in on such a tender moment.

Dean looked down at the cloth, and left it next to the half eaten pie. He noticed Sam had left exactly half, like he used to when they were young. Sam would eat the first half, and never forget to save the rest for Dean.

'Alright well Sandy's headin' over in an hour, she'll be here by 10. See if you can get Sam to eat something, eggs or something I dunno.'

Bobby was trying to avoid the subject of caring for Sam, but he looked so damn ill. His eyes were sunken, his hair messy and greasy, and his lips cracked and dry. His breath was raspy and his chest rising slowly. It sounded painful.

'You know, I got a friend who works at St. Marie's Hospice, I can just give her a ca-'

'Bobby no. He's fine. You know Sam, it always looks worse than it is with him.' Dean said defensively, but truth be told, if that were him lying there, he probably would ask for help.

'All right, all right. I won't ask again.'

And with that, Bobby left the two brothers alone.

A couple of hours passed and Dean had tried to wake Sam to give him some food and water, to no avail. The water had just dribbled down him, and the eggs didn't even make it near his mouth before Sam had weakly protested.

'Bobby! It's been too long…How're you holdin' up?' Called a woman's voice, from a fair distance away.

Dean heard a faint conversation from Sam's room; it was Sandy and Bobby. Damn, the last thing he wanted right now was some crazy werewolf hunter. He listened to the conversation for a few minutes and when he heard his name mentioned, Dean stood up and left Sam.

'Oh it's Sam right?' Came a cheerful voice before he even had take to take her in.

She was pretty. OK, so she was smokin' hot. She reminded Dean of someone but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. She was wearing a low-cut top with a tough and worn leather jacket and torn denim flared jeans. Her belt had a big metal buckle in the shape of a reindeer. Her smile was weak but well intentioned.

'Err no Sam's my brother. He's not feeling too hot so he's sitting this one out. I'm Dean.'

They shook hands; her hands were rough with nasty looking burns on them. The way she shook his hand definitely reminded him of someone.

'Oh, my bad.' She said with another smile. 'So Bobby tells me you've got some trouble with Vegats…that right?'

She really did get straight to the point. He liked her already.

'Sort of, yeah. Sam could fill you in better but I guess Bobby's done that for me. You reckon you could help us?'

Sandy smiled politely, as though Dean had said something a four year old could understand.

'I think so Dean. Full moon's tomorrow, which is awfully convenient. Before my Mom passed she did a little research of Vegats and heard through the grapevine that they don't like coming out at full moon. A bit more digging and as it turns out, they're at their weakest when the moon is fullest. But we can't just go hunting them at full moon, not with the werewolves also at their strongest at that time. We go tonight and hopefully find a captured werewolf. Tell it we'll set it free if it can take us to the Vegat angels.'

'Sounds like a pretty plan, but what about killin' the Vegats? We can't kill them. Only the werewolves can.' Replied Dean, already surprised at the level of thought Sandy had.

'Well Dean, I guess we'll just conveniently miss out that information out until the werewolves see their enemy. They'll wanna' kill the Vegats, trust me; it's in their blood. We just gotta make it seem like it was their plan all along.'

Bobby and Dean exchanged glances of impressiveness and looked back at her. She was a lot more confident than the last time Bobby had seen her.

'Problem boys?' Sandy said as she raised an eyebrow.

'Nope. Definitely no problem at all.' Replied Dean, glad that she had some sort of plan. The sooner this was over with, the better.

'Good. I bought some gear with me, Dean, I wanna' go over the best locations round here for hiding large animals. Bobby, you can give us a hand as well. You know this area well. Our first job is to find this damn lair of theirs...'


	7. The Delirium

Sandy was a keen hunter, and it seemed like every thing she said was just another push towards their final answer. She was smart as well, on par with Sam smart. She knew how to decode the language that Sam used, and even noted how impressive his research system was. However, there was still that nagging thought in Dean's mind that she reminded him of someone. He just couldn't place who it was.

A few intense hours passed, and between the three of them, they had managed to locate a perfect area with the right kind of animals, forestation and light needed for werewolves. It was a short hour's drive away.

'Right, I'm gonna' go check on Sam, I haven't heard from him in a while.' Said Dean, standing up and stretching his legs.

'What do you thinks wrong with him?' Asked Sandy, folding away some papers.

'No idea, but whatever it is, it better stop soon because he's not looking too hot.' Replied Dean.

Sandy bit her lip and tried to crane her neck to see if she could see Sam behind the closed door.

'Well, you know I spent a lot of time in hospitals over the past few years. Why don't I just take a quick look and if I can't help, I can't help but worth a shot, eh?' She said.

Dean licked his lips in thought and glanced over to Bobby. Sandy seemed like a decent girl, and she had her heart in the right place.

'All right. But don't tell Sam I got you to look him over, he's not exactly looking his best.'

'Agreed. Lead the way.' She said with an understanding smile.

Dean led Sandy towards the bedroom where Dean was, praying he didn't look any worse than he did before. Dean had seen Sam drunk, high, sick, and just plain tired but he was just about the only one who had.

Sam had changed position; he was now in a fetal position, his spine curved outwards, and his hands wrapped around his shins. His eyes were a little open, but he was still out of it and his body was shivering.

Dean walked over to him, touching his forehead. His temperature was still there and his head was sticky with sweat. He gently squeezed his forearm to see if he would awaken.

'Wow. He's really not well is he?

Dean had forgotten Sandy was there, and he wanted to kick her out but he knew he couldn't. He just wanted to look after Sam.

'So you don't know what's wrong with him?' Asked Dean, annoyed that she chose now to be shy about things.

'Well. I can tell he's got a hellova fever, he's dehydrated and he actually looks a little malnourished. What's he eaten in the past few days?' She asked, as she rather comfortably placed a hand on his head, and checked his pulse.

'Not a lot.' Replied Dean. 'I tried to get him to eat and drink this morning but he just shook his head and wouldn't open his damn mouth.'

The silence that followed was quickly broken by a slow, deep moan. Sam's eyes were trying to open fully and he was uncurling himself from his fetal position. The touch must have disturbed him.

'Sammy? Sam, can you hear me? It's Dean.' He said, as he pushed passed Sandy.

Sam had his eyes fully open, looking around wearily.

'Th-thirrrsteee.' Sam managed to moan out, before his eyes started to shut again.

'OK OK Sammy, I'll get you some water just stay awake for me, err.' He said as he turned to Sandy 'Sandy can you?'

'Get him some water, yea sure.'

Sandy took the glass off the table and hurried into the kitchen, updating Bobby as she went past.

She was barely gone a few seconds, and returned with an overflowing glass of water, handing it to Dean.

'OK Sam, can you drink this? Just open your eyes Sammy, it's water.'

His eyes wearily opened, and his shaking hands managed to weakly grip the glass, bringing to his lips. Sam swallowed the water ravenously, spilling a fair amount down his front.

'Not too fast Sam, you'll make yourself sick.' Said Sandy, as she took the glass back off him.

Sam hadn't noticed Sandy in the room, he had barely registered Dean. But on hearing her voice, he sat up a little straighter and looked at her, his eyes widening.

'D-dean. How's she…? WhatdidyoudoDean?' Sam gasped out, not taking her eyes off Sandy.

'Sam, her name is Sandy, she's helping us out with the case…you remember the case? With the Anima Vegats?' Dean said as he felt his forehead; he was hot.

'N-no Dean. J-Jo, I've missed you so much. Oh God, how d-did you get back 'ere?' Sam said emotionally, his eyes as wide as a puppy's.

Sandy and Dean exchanged worrying glances. That was it! That was who Sandy reminded him of…Jo Harvelle. Her walk. Her smile. Her handshake.

'Sam…it isn't Jo. It's Sandy. I know, I know, she's like Jo. But Jo's still gone.' Dean said, hating to let Sam down.

'But Dean, I know it's her. Look at her! She's all pretty like she was, and her mouth Dean it's Jo's mouth!' Sam said croakily, on the verge on tears.

'Dean what's goin' on? What's wrong with Sam?' Bobby said, wheeling in.

'Bobby…he's delirious, he thinks Sandy is Jo and that she's come back.' Dean replied quickly, focusing his attention back on Sam.

'She _has_ come back Dean. Why can't you see? LOOK AT HER!' Sam was upright crying now, angry tears of frustration.

'Maybe-maybe I should leave? H-he's not well and I'm not Jo Harvelle.' Sandy said, looking slightly traumatised.

'No, stay it'll just upset him if you lea-wait. How do you know which Jo he's thinking of?' Dean asked, now his attention on Sandy.

'Because he's right - I _do_ look like Jo. I see it everyday when I look in the mirror.' She replied, looking down like she was ashamed of what she has said.

'I'm sorry Dean I should've said, I just didn't think you'd notice.' Bobby said, whilst Sam was still looking longingly at Sandy, like he had fallen in love.

'Notice what Bobby?' Said Dean, almost threateningly.

'Sandy is Jo's cousin Dean. Julie and Ellen were sisters. We lost them both in the same God damn month.' Bobby replied, looking down in pain.

San tore his gaze from Bobby to Sandy, seeing the resemblance clear as day.

'And why the HELL didn't you think to mention this Bobby?' Sam half-shouted at Bobby.

'Because Dean.' He started 'you didn't know either of them. We never thought you would. Julie and Ellen didn't exactly always see eye to eye on how the family business should go down.'

'Oh so you just pushed them out our lives!?'

'It wasn't like that Dean.' Said Sandy.

She had been quiet for so long, Dean had forgotten she had a voice. Even the way she said his name sounded like Jo.


	8. The Care

The tension between Dean, Sandy and Bobby was so unbearable they all decided just to focus on Sam, who had been awake but completely delirious and feverish. Dean doubted Sam could even comprehend who Bobby was. After all, he had asked why Bobby was sitting down all the time. They had collectively decided to drop the matter of Ellen and Julie until Sam could understand what was going on, so they didn't have to explain everything twice.

Sandy had made some soft scrambled eggs for Sam under Dean's command, and Bobby sat silently outside the house, trying to clear his head.

Bobby wasn't prepared for this. As soon as he had seen Sandy, he saw Jo, he saw Julie and he saw Ellen. He found himself looking at all the people he had loved and lost. Torn away from him. A hot tear rolled down Bobby's face as he sat in the cold.

Sandy returned a good few minutes later with a good-sized plate of eggs for Sam. She was torn and hurt, but she knew Dean would understand. After all, he was so much like Bobby had described him as: brave, charismatic, and a spitting image of his strikingly attractive father.

Sandy handed the eggs to Dean, with awkward thanks. She walked out and stood outside the room, lost in thought about family, and what it really meant to be a hunter.

'OK Sammy, time to eat now' Sandy heard Dean say. 'Look what we've got here, eggs, you love eggs.'

Dean felt like an idiot treating Sam like a four year old but Sam only understand simple commands, his fever was improving but according to the thermometer, it was still too high for his liking.

'Did Jo make them?' Sam asked innocently, not knowing any better.

'Do you like Jo's eggs?' Replied Dean, as he piled some on a spoon.

'I love Jo's eggs Dean. She makes the best eggs.' Sam said, with a nostalgic smile on his face.

'Then yes, Sam, these are Jo's eggs.' And with that, he spooned them into Sam's eagerly open mouth, before he could question it further.

After a few spoonful's, Sam decided he could feed himself, much to the delight of Dean's pride and dignity.

'Psst. Dean.' Sandy whispered from outside the door, hearing that the conversation had come to a halt.

Dean stood up and walked out, taking one last look at Sam; satisfied he was perfectly content wolfing down 'Jo's eggs'.

'Yea?' He asked, perhaps a little too coldly. After all, she was a fellow hunter and any friend of Bobby's was a friend of Dean's.

'Look, I want this case over with and out the way, so I'm gonna' see if I can find that lair we talked about.' Sandy said in her affirmative tone.

Even though Dean could tell it wasn't a question, he protested regardless.

'No, Sandy, it's too dangerous for just one person. I have to go too. You don't know what's out there.' Dean replied, as he turned around to check on Sam, who has almost finished the plate of eggs.

Sandy touched Dean's forearm and made him turn around.

'Yes. I do. Let me go, I'll be back before midnight and you know where I am. I'm only finding the lair so we can go back there next full moon. You and Sam have something my Mom never had with Julie, so stay with him. He needs you.'

It seemed like a fairly reasonable request, and Dean didn't want to leave Sam right now, not now that he was getting better. He'd have questions and Dean wanted to answer them himself.

'Fine, OK. Just please, keep your phone on you, take the maps, err, take a spare gun too and holy water and sal-'

'Dean. I know what I'm doing.' She said, cutting him off.

Sandy leaned in closer and gave him a soft warm kiss on his cheek.

'I'll come back.' She said with her Jo smile. 'I promise.'

Dean didn't have time to reply, Sandy was already half way out the house by the time he had processed what happened. His cheek was hot from her kiss. Maybe she wasn't so much like Jo after all.


	9. The Cold

After Sandy left, Bobby came back inside and helped Dean undress Sam down to his boxer shorts. Between them, they managed to get him under a cold shower and Dean turned the shower down to a'4' out of a possible heat setting of '10'. He protested at first but the cold water was helping, and he slid down the shower wall, sitting down with his eyes closed, letting the water seep into his skin.

Bobby's shower was designed to cater from Antarctic weather to South African heat, depending on preference and sanity. A '4' was cool, and just bordering on unpleasant.

'Sam,' Called Dean from outside the shower door 'I'm getting you some clothes, don't move, and call me or Bobby if you need anything.'

Sam didn't answer, and Dean didn't even know whether he was listening. Nevertheless, he left Sam to enjoy his shower in peace and searched for his packed case. It seemed like weeks ago they were at that hotel, packing all their stuff away for the billionth time.

Bobby managed to change Sam's sheets with some difficulty, which was soaked through with sweat. He didn't bother putting the new sheets on the duvet; they were far too thick for Sam to sleep comfortably.

Dean found his spare pair of clothes buried underneath stacks of research papers and newspaper clippings, but the jeans were too thick and would be too hot for Sam. He borrowed some of Bobby's old cotton trousers that he wore to stop his wheelchair from irritating his skin. They looked at least three sizes too big but he doubted Sam would care; they were comfy and cool.

Sandy had slipped out of Dean's mind, and it was still early. She'd only be gone an hour, and it took that to get to the Vegat lair. She was the last of Dean's worries right now.

Dean headed back towards the bathroom, juggling clothes and towels for Sam.

'Sam? You gotta' come out now or you'll shrivel up like a prune. I got you some clothes and towels.' Shouted Dean, whilst he put the clothes on the bed.

When Sam didn't respond, he knocked on the shower door.

'Sammy, come on, I even got you some of Bobby's pants to wear. You'll love 'em, come on Sam.' Dean said with a smile that turned into a frown when he didn't hear an answer. He knocked again; this time harder.

Still no answer.

Dean slowly opened the shower door, he knew Sam was in his boxers but there was only so much dignity to be had in soaking wet cotton boxer shorts.

Sam was still sitting there in the position Dean had left him in, and at first, Dean didn't notice anything wrong. But he reached to turn off the shower and he noticed Sam must have turned the heat right down to '1' and the water was icy cold. The ice water made Dean flinch, and when he looked down at Sam, his limbs and fingers looked lifeless, and his skin was mottling grey. He lips were a cold steely blue and his eyes were still closed.

'Sam…' Dean said quietly, as he lost his own breath.

Dean didn't have time to think, he just turned the shower back on, and heated it up to a good fiery '8'.

'Sammy! Can you hear me? Just say something if you can here me.' Dean said, frantically grabbing Sam's shoulder and trying to hoist him upwards, into a strange squatting position. The water just seemed to bounce of his skin, not penetrating through.

'Hhhh.' Whispered Sam, only just audible over the noise of the pounding shower.

'OK Sam. Right I'm getting you out now before you go into shock or something.'

Dean turned off the shower once more, and hoisted a dripping wet Sam out of the shower and managed to get him to sit on the bed, slouching upwards.

'D-D-Dean…Hhh…hhho.' Sam groaned, his wet floppy hair in his face.

Dean's only concern was regulating his temperature; it was impossible to tell through the sickness whether he was hot or cold.

'BOBBY!' He called, 'GET THE THERMOMETER. NOW!'

Sam was barely awake and Dean didn't want to put any clothes or towels on him before he knew his temperature. He felt freezing, but his body could be attempting to heat itself. Sam cursed at himself that he wasn't more medically aware.

Bobby came wheeling in at lighting speed, giving Dean the thermometer.

'Dean what happened?' He asked, trying to figure it out.

'He turned the shower down to 1, and sat in it for ten minutes, he was freezing Bobby.' Dean said as he once again put the thermometer under his tongue.

''ean I'm 'old' Said Sam, trying to talk with the stick in his mouth. His teeth were chattering so badly Sam was going to break the thermometer with his canines.

'Shh Sam.' Said Dean, putting a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him down. His shoulder was like a block of ice sitting on his body.

The thermometer beeped and Dean yanked it out his mouth.

'**94.7'**

Without saying a word, Dean grabbed all the blankets and clothes around him, and started wrapping them around Sam so tightly they were constricting him. He was violently shivering and he could tell his muscles were contracting painfully. His breathing was erratic. If he wasn't careful, Sam's heart would give out, despite its strength.

'Dean…' Started Bobby.

'Not now Bobby.' Dean said, working fast to bring his temperature up.

'Dean he needs help. I'm calling a doctor.' Said Bobby, turning his wheelchair around.

'No.' Said Dean, turning away from Sam and sticking his foot in between the wheels, stopping Bobby from going any further. 'Bobby, you said you wouldn't.'

'The kid's sick Dean! Look at him!' Bobby exclaimed, pointing at him.

Dean faced Sam, who was still shivering like mad, his eyes darting around like he was shooting imaginary targets with his eyes. Bobby was right. But he couldn't take Sam to the hospital, not after what he promised.

'We're not taking him anywhere. We're keeping him here, and no one else gets to look at him but you, Sandy, and me. Is that clear?' Dean enforced, furrowing his brow and beginning to pace the room, hoping for a miracle.

We'll wait for Sandy' Dean continued, 'and see what she says. She knows this stuff better than we do and when she comes back; we'll ask.'

'If.' Bobby said in a voice so small, it was barely audible.

'If what Bobby?' Asked Dean, turning to face Bobby. He was having none of Bobby's crap right now.

'The girl's got a death wish Dean. She's a thrill seeker. The more danger, the better. Why d'you think she was so keen to wait until she could go by herself? Don't be surprised if she doesn't come back.' Said Bobby.

Dean thought about the promise she'd made to him. He barely knew the girl and yet he knew she had a heart like Jo's; a lion's heart. There were two types of people with a heart like that; soldiers and fools.

'She'll come back Bobby. She's only been gone a couple hours.' Dean said, although not quite believing the words coming out his mouth.


	10. The Bittersweetness

Somehow, they had managed to regulate Sam's temperature to a non-dangerous level, but he was still weak and frail. His body looked thinner and his muscles didn't have the definition Dean was used to seeing. They had managed to make him a sickly homemade cocktail of various vitamins and nutrients Bobby had in his pantry. It was sweet and looked like something that would block a drain. However, it seemed to perk Sam up a little and he was beginning to talk in actual sentences.

'Dean I hated the heat.' Said Sam, his eyes still wearily opening and closing, as he sat up in bed.

'I know buddy. But Jesus, that shower could've killed you.' Replied Dean, rubbing the bottom of his own face. He hadn't shaved in a few days.

'No Dean, I hated the heat.' Said Sam again, his eyes attempting to focus on Dean's, but instead they just ended up going cross-eyed.

'Sammy you just said that. I get it. It's cool. You were hot, the shower was cold. I get it.'

'NO. Dean. You're getting it not. No, not it getting. No, God damn it. NOT GETTING IT.' Sam fumbled over his words.

'Alright.' Dean said simply and patiently.

Dean knew that if Sam got better, he'd tease him about this. When he got better, rather. Because he was, thought Dean, he was going to be fine.

Sam looked defeated but took in a deep breath and started again. He hadn't used his speech in so long; the signals in his brain were way off.

'Dean.' He began firmly 'I hated the heat. HatED. Hell, Dean. I hated Hell.'

Dean's eyes moved into a frowning position and he cocked his head to one side in confusion.

'Sam. I know. I know you hate Hell. Damn, who likes that place?' He finally said, not quite sure what Sam meant.

'No one. No one likes it there. It's so hot. I just needed to be cold again.' Sam said, his eyes avoiding Dean's glance.

'You're sick Sammy. Not in Hell.'

'I am Dean. You wouldn't understand. It's not something I can just explain.'

'Well God Damn Sam, I want to help. I've always wanted to help. Just try.' Dean said, moving closer to Sam's face, until he could smell the musk on Bobby's old clothes.

Sam looked at Dean, and the tension rose. He tightened his jaw and his nostrils flared. He knew he would have to explain to Dean something he had always avoided.

'Imagine this.' Sam began, turning his glance away. 'Fire tearing through layers of skin and fatty tissue. It slowly turns your bones to charcoal and seeps through to your blood until it curdles. You let the blazing inferno lick and penetrate your raw body because you have no choice but to wait for death. Except you never die, because your body isn't your life anymore. You have to smell your own hair being scorched off your scalp. You feel your rib cage crumble and fall away from what's left of your frame. Then, it stops. It's over. You're you again except you're not really you. Because none of it was ever real. It was imagined inside the only place I trusted.'

As he spoke, Sam's breathing got quicker and quicker, and he subconsciously took off the blankets surrounding him. His skin become blushed and marbled with rosy tints. When he had finished he just stared into no particular space unconsciously rubbed at his hairline. Beads of perspiration had already started to form.

'I guess you got your voice back.' Said Bobby, wheeling in, surprising them both.

Bobby had been at the doorway of the room and neither Sam nor Dean had noticed. Bobby had rarely spoken about his time in Hell, but he never once said 'go to Hell' to anyone after he returned.

'B-Bobby.' Muttered Sam, starting to feel his fever return.

Bobby didn't say a word. He just pulled away the blankets from the bed, and folded them onto his lap, wheeling back out again.

'Sam. Your fever…' Began Dean, reaching towards Sam's forehead.

'Don't.' Said Sam, grabbing Dean's wrist and stopping him.

Sam lay back down onto the bed, and closed his eyes peacefully. It was like he had just confessed his sins.

Dean wanted to care for him, to make things right, but he couldn't. This wasn't an illness that a doctor could cure. It wasn't even one that Dean could cure.

With Sam back asleep, Dean fell into a slight depression. He was lost and confused and so was his brother. Looking at his watch, he swore: Sandy. He had completely forgotten about her. It was way past two in the morning. Dean wanted to go and wake Bobby to search for her, but he'd be asleep and he could leave. Sam was his brother, Sandy was just a girl. A woman.

Somehow, by a miracle, Dean managed to sleep that night. A good few hours too. But the good mood didn't last when he realised Sandy still wasn't back. After checking on a sleeping Sam, he walked into the living room. Bobby looked tired and hadn't even bothered to switch on the TV.

'Bobby, there's still time.' Said Dean.

Dean wasn't great at sympathy. He said the wrong things even though it was well intentioned.

'Dean, both you and I know the chance of Sandy comin' back and it's hella slim.' Bobby said resigned.

'Slim is still a chance.'

And it was still a chance. Dean knew it.

Then, as if some miracle had been granted, an almighty crash echoed around the house, making Dean reach for pistol.

'Bobby stay back. I got this.' Dean said, edging his way to the front door, where the sound seemed to have come from.

Dean walked carefully, his pistol in a tightened grip in his fingers. As the door came into view, he saw the wooden frame had splintered away and was hanging by a few pieces of wood.

But something else caught Dean's eyes. Sandy. She was bloodied and bruised, standing a few feet away from the door with a smile on her face.

'Sorry 'bout the door.' She said, 'Jeez Dean put the gun down, I'm not a bloody criminal.'

Dean slowly lowered his gun.

'Where the Hell have you been Sandy? On what in fudge name happened? Dean questioned, hoisting the gun back in his pants and walking out towards her, trying to assess the damage done to her face and body. The top buttons on her shirt had come away, leaving her cream coloured bra a little exposed.

'Oh Dean you are going to LOVE this. You ready?' She said, with a keen look on her face and not even noticing Dean was staring at her chest.

'Ready for what?' He replied, wishing Sandy would come inside. The cold was still bitter and she looked freezing.

'I got one.' She said proudly.

'Got what?'

'A Vegat Dean I got one! I found the lair, and the werewolves put up a fight to give it up but the Vegat, it's in an Angel's form. The werewolves were definitely trying to go against it.'

'Oh. Right, yea. So where is it?' Dean questioned, not believing that Sandy had spent hours hunting this Vegat whilst Dean had been playing nurse.

'In the boot, I'll show you. I had to subdue it with this blade he had. Looks like an Angel blade but it's too hard to tell. Could be what the werewolves use to kill them. Then I mentioned you guys and he practically volunteered himself. He probably wants a piece of you so stand back.'

Sandy walked over to the boot of the trunk, and propped it open. Standing proud like a kid in show and tell.

Dean was stood a foot away stumbled backwards even further, losing his breath at what he saw. A man crumpled in a heap, his dark hair disheveled and his cream coat smeared with blood.

'Th-that's not a Vegat Sandy. That's an Angel.' Dean said, looking in horror at Sandy.

She looked half-bemused half-confused.

'There's no way you can tell Dean.' She said, looking at the man in her trunk.

'Yes, I can.' Said Dean 'that's Castiel.'


	11. The Angel

Dean wasted no time hurrying over to the trunk, and checking over Castiel instinctively. He had a pretty nasty bruise on his head, as well as ligature marks on his wrists. However, as he rolled him over with some effort, his eyes opened and Dean could tell he was never unconscious to begin with. He wasn't healing himself. He wanted to fool Sandy into thinking he wasn't an Angel.

Sandy stood there, and watched as Dean tended to the man in her trunk, the bonds tying his wrists had come free and he was awake now.

'Cas…What the hell are you doing?' Asked Dean, leading him out the trunk awkwardly, and letting go of him the moment his feet touched the ground.

Castiel looked around for a few moments, and at Sandy. Dean had talked about Castiel to Sandy briefly, but only because Bobby had probed the subject.

'Does she know who I am?' He questioned Dean outwardly.

'Y-yes, I told her. Now what the HELL is going on?'

Castiel healed his wounds and straightened out his trench coat, much to Sandy's astonishment. She didn't come across many Angels. Not in her type of hunting work.

'I came, because I was called. I heard your name and I am still an Angel. It is my duty to protect. No matter who calls me.' Castiel said, still looking around to assess his location.

'I didn't call you Cas. No one did. So thanks for showing up and all but you can leave now.' Said Dean, avoiding eye contact.

'Somebody did call me Dean. Although I cannot see why.' Castiel looked at Sandy and continued. 'When you attempted to subdue me, you said they wanted me. What did you mean?'

Sandy looked taken aback.

'I-I thought you were…I thought you were someone else. Something else. I was trying to trick you because I thought you wanted to kill them. I didn't know you were an Angel. I didn't know you were Castiel.'

Castiel looked almost human. His expression was true. He was disappointed and his face showed it.

'I came to you. You were the one who prayed for a savior. You did not need me?' Castiel asked.

'I-no I didn't pray for anyone. I don't need help. I just wanted to get a Vegat and I thought you were one, and Christ, a real Angel. It's a damn good job you came when I mentioned Dean because I could've killed you with this blade.' Sandy said, pulling the blade out from her back pocket.

The blade had been shattered, and she only had a fragment. But it was lethal either way.

Castiel took back his blade from her hands. He held it in his hands, before putting it in his trench coat pocket.

'Where is Sam?' Castiel asked, clearly searching for a human in need.

'Sam's fine Cas. Now, like I said, no one needs nothin' so you can leave now. It's all just been a big misunderstandin''

Dean started to walk back to the broken front door, hoping everything would just blow over.

'Dean wait!' Called Sandy.

Dean closed his eyes for a moment and then turned around but didn't come any closer.

'This Castiel. He's an Angel. He can heal. Right? So Sam's sick, he can ju-'

'No Sandy. He's not healing anything for us. The only thing he can do for us right now is leave.' Dean said, going to turn around again.

'Sam is not well?' Castiel asked, as he started to walk towards Dean in a determined fashion.

Castiel reached Dean and Dean blocked the doorway with his body. Refusing to let Castiel past.

'Cas. No. I can't let you in. Not again.' Dean said.

'Then bring Sam out here and I will heal him.' Castiel asked.

'That's not what I meant!' Dean said, frustrated at the simplicity of Angel emotions.

'I am an Angel. It is my duty to protect and heal where I can.'

'Come on Dean, he's not gonna' make the kid worse, just let him do his thing, and you never know, he might be useful for something. You know, like the case.' Said Sandy, trying to help after her cock-up.

'Forget the damn case Sandy!' Dean swore. 'Sam's sick and he's not getting better. I don't care about the damn Vegats.'

Dean was angry, and torn once again between his pride and his emotional bonds.

'If I let you in. You don't leave my view. You leave once you've healed him. And you don't come back. This is the last time Cas.' Dean made it imperative to Castiel.

He moved out the doorway, and led Castiel into the house.

'Bobby, it's a long story. But Cas is here and he's healing Sam then he's leaving. I'll explain it later. Oh, and Sandy's back.' Dean said quickly to Bobby as he marched past. He was sitting in his wheelchair with a loaded rifle on his lap.

Sandy and Bobby reunited and she flooded him with apologies, attempting to fill in the brief outline of a story Dean had given.

Dean led Castiel to the bedroom. Sam was awake, but watching the blank ceiling. He shot up when Castiel walked in and swayed, little stars once again clouding his eyes.

'C-Cas! Dean what's he doing here?'

'It's a long story Sammy. A really long story. I'm letting him heal you then he's leaving.'

Dean looked at Castiel.

'Go on then. Do your thing and then go back to Heaven or wherever the Hell you come from now.'

Castiel didn't say a word. He gently placed a hand on Sam's heated forehead, and both their eyes closed. There was no iridescent glow of light. No instant relief. Nothing. Castiel opened his eyes.

'I do not understand. Sam will not heal.'

'What do you mean he won't heal? It's what you do.' Dean said in an accusing tone.

Dean looked down at his hands, the cut on his finger was still fresh.

'Do me. Heal me.' Dean said, sticking out his hand for Castiel to take.

Dean almost drew back as Castiel reached for his hand, but the moment their skin touched, the cut glowed a faint iridescent blue, and the cut vanished.

'It's not me.' Said Castiel. 'It's Sam.'


	12. The Incurable

'What do you mean, it's Sam?' Dean replied, looking at his brother.

'It's not…it's not working.' Castiel said, looking humanly confused.

It was always worrying to Dean when Castiel had his 'human emotion' faces. It was something so genuine, not even an Angel could fake.

'Not working? It never not works. You're a freakin' Angel Cas.' Dean said, trying to openly gesture with open arms at how ridiculous the whole situation was.

'Dean. It doesn't matter how much of an Angel I am. It is not me. It is Sam.'

Although Sam looked improved, his permanent dark eyes and pale complexion was still evident and he wasn't looking at either of them. He was staring at his knees, as if they were something incredibly interesting. It was like his body was in a permanent state of unawareness. His mind was a radio, picking up a signal every now and then but never hitting the station.

'Dean, I need to speak with you. In private.' Castiel said, starting to move away from Sam, and heading out the door.

'No. Whatever you say, you say here. In front of us both.' Replied Dean, knowing it wouldn't make much of a different to Sam anyway. Dean could have told Sam he was eloping Castiel, and he would've accepted it.

'Alright. Very well.' Began Castiel 'There are very few times an Angel is unable to heal a human. Either Sam is being possessed, or he does not need healing. I do not believe Sam is possessed, he would show signs.' Said Castiel, looking over at Sam, innocently sitting like a puppy on the bed.

'What do you mean, 'he doesn't need healing'? Sam's…Sam's sick and he's not right. You know…in the head.' Dean said, avoiding all eye contact for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Dean hated referring to Sam as being 'not right in the head' but it was the only way to explain it. If he only knew what Sam was thinking; feeling, then just maybe he could fix it.

Castiel continued speaking.

'Before I got my grace back, there was another situation just like this one. A woman. She was in pain and suffering but no Angel could heal her. Her sickness was not healable. I believe it is what the humans call psychosomatic. The pain does not come from a source, but rather a flaw. And Angel's do not heal flaws. We are perfect creatures, designed to heal cuts and bruises, not psychological ailments.'

'A psychological ailment? What the Hell Cas. This is Sam, not some nut job.'

'This woman. Her pain came from losing her children in an accident. Human emotion is incredibly complex. It is the only thing too complex for an Angel. We have tried to understand but I suppose we do lack a certain…empathy. The woman's pain…it was indescribable. I had never seen that sort of pain manifest before in a human. It turned her mind on her body and well, she just gave into it.'

'Wait…wait so you're saying that Sam's illness thing is from like a trauma? I'm always with him that isn't possible. How can his mind turn on his body or some crap like that? Right well that doesn't matter. How did you cure the woman? Just fix him like you fixed her.' Dean said, still not fully understanding everything.

'Dean. She couldn't be fixed. I told you – she gave into it. She died. Her pain was like what you call cancer. It spread and infested inside her. There is no way to stop it. I am sorry Dean. I am powerless to this.'

Dean took a step back, not wanting to look at his brother. If what Cas was saying was true, Sam had some kind of psychosomatic pain that was attacking his mind. What had Sam done? Of every demon, monster and creature they had come across, this was different. This wasn't Supernatural.


	13. The Memory

Finally, after what seemed like hours of silence after Castiel's diagnosis, Dean faced Sam.

'OK Sammy. Time for you to talk now. You're not going anywhere. I need to know what the Hell is going inside that mind of yours.'

Dean knelt down, and took Sam's shoulders. It felt so unusual to be so intimate with his brother, but he knew Dean's normal routine wasn't going to fix this.

'Sam, I'm your brother. I'm going to fix you. I promise. But God, just tell me.'

Sam slowly lifted his chin up until his eyes were gazing into his brothers. And finally, he began to recall his memories, word for word.

_One week earlier:_

'_Hey Dean get this, there's these werewolves turning up dead all over Eden Prairie, Minneapolis. Newspaper's calling it a hoax but there's no way they can just be dead like that.'_

_Sam called to his brother, who was lying on the sofa bed in the shabby motel they had check into._

'_Gimme the paper but if we go, we're leaving soon, look's like a storm's coming or something.' Dean said._

_He scanned the paper and gave it an approving nod._

'_So, we checking that one out?' Dean asked, handing the paper back to his brother._

'_Yea, I reckon so. It's got all the signs. Besides, it's not often you see that kind of werewolf killing. Not with how high they are on the food chain. I'm got a feeling about this one.' Sam said, folding the paper away and standing up._

'_I'm getting us some supplies for the road, and yes Dean, I will get the pie.' Sam said, grabbing his coat._

'_Er, pies Sam, pies with an s. I want multiple.'_

_Sam smiled as he walked out the door, and headed out the motel. Dean was right, the weather was getting colder. There was something in the air. _

_As he walked to the local store, a men dressed in a dark suit was outside, along with a few kids playing with some cards. It was a small shop, and it didn't take Sam long to pick up a few bananas, water, and two pies; raspberry and cherry. The man in the suit stayed in Sam's mind and he paid the cashier; he seemed familiar. Almost like he was a childhood friend. _

_Walking out the shop, the kids were gone but the man was still standing there. Sam walked out slowly and got a good look at him – he was reasonably tall with a good strong figure and dark brown hair. Sam started to walk away when he called out._

'_Samuel Winchester.' He began as Sam spun around, almost dropping the shopping bags. 'Born 2__nd__ May 1983 in Lawrence, Kansas. Son of Mary and John. One brother, one half brother.'_

_Sam stood there, with his mouth open._

'_How do you know that? Who are you?' Sam questioned the man in the suit._

'_I was hoping you'd recognise me Samuel. I tried hard with this vessel.'_

_At the mention of the word 'vessel' Sam seized up, bracing himself._

'_Oh I won't hurt you. I've just come to give you a message. A message sent personally from Alistair himself.' The man said, looking at Sam in a nonchalant way._

'_Alistair? Alistair is dead. I killed him myself after what he did to all those innocent people. You're lying.' Said Sam, trying to keep his cool whilst holding his bag of bananas and pie. _

'_Dead? Oh death is such a fickle friend. Such a technicality that we can just…forget about. Everyone ends up somewhere. I'm flattered that you think it's that easy.'_

_The man was in no rush. _

'_You're lying. I destroyed him. Just like all the others.' Sam said, trying to threaten the him. He wasn't armed apart from a few salt packets in his pocket._

'_Oh Samuel, you won't scare me with all your little comments. Besides don't you want to know your message? I'm not some dead chick's Dad for nothing.' He said, almost as if Sam was boring the man._

'_Dead chick's Da-.' Sam started. _

'_Oh come on. You were in love with his precious little daughter. You must have seen this face once or twice.' _

_Sam realised. It was Jessica's father. He had met him once, when he helped moved them in. He couldn't be around the suited man any longer, not now he had moved on from her death._

'_I don't care who you are. But if you have a message you can give it to me now and leave my brother and me alone. You're not worth my time.' Sam said, trying to relax. He had her nose. Rounded at the end. _

'_Very well. Alistair wants you to know that you are required in Hell. He's recruiting and you've got all the necessary…qualifications. He won't be there to greet you but he knows you're ready. You should feel privileged. Many would give a lot for the role he's offering. He said you'll be hard to persuade so he's got a little preposition for you.' He said._

_Sam was stunned. _

'_In Hell? Is this some kind of joke? Why on Earth would I even consider going back there?' Sam answered back, looking around to make sure the place was deserted._

'_A trade. A life working in Hell, for a life of Heaven for you and your little brother. You join him for a lifetime, so let's call it a few thousand years, and you can have it all. You can have a house, money, Mary, John and Jessica back. Your brother too, he can have anyone he wants back. All the ones you couldn't save. All the lives you had to give up. He can give you it all. All you have to do is accept his recruitment.' _

_The man stopped talking and put his hands together, in a casual prayer position. He was waiting for an answer._

'_I don't know who you are, but the answer's no. Nothing you offer will change my mind. I can guarantee that. I'd sooner die slow than accept that offer.' Sam said, bewildered and confused, but not letting it show._

'_Oh Samuel. Samuel, Samuel, Samuel. I made it sound like a choice but you'll end up there eventually. You're almost top of the list for Hell after life. All the people you killed, and the lives you cast away. It doesn't go unpunished. It's your destiny so you might as well accept it now. Or I'll make you live with the pain of saying no. I'll make you feel how they felt. The ones you couldn't save.'_

_Sam took a step back. His arm was aching carrying the shopping and the cold became biting. _

'_I'm not going. I can take pain. It's no problem for me. So give it your best shot but I'm not leaving my brother. I'm not having him die without me.'_


	14. The Visitor

_The suited man sighed and rolled his eyes. It was an all too familiar situation._

'_How touching of you to say. You're going to regret this Samuel. Especially after you've had a taste of your own medicine. I'll give Alistair the message that you won't be joining him quite yet. But I'm sure you'll give in. They all do.' He said simply as he started to walk past Sam._

'_Some like it hot, hope you do.' He said as he walked further away from Sam. _

_Sam turned around in time to see the man transform to dust a few feet away. His face crumbling to the ground, his eyes, mouth, and Jessica's nose. All gone before Sam had a chance to take a breath. He stood there alone, holding the shopping bag. _

'And that was when it started. It felt like flu at first. I was constantly warm, even outdoors. My head started to feel cloudy. I felt infected. It felt like Hell was inside me. Trying to escape. Dragging me further, down to its level.'

Sam finished speaking. Both Bobby and Sandy had come in through Sam talking to pick up what was going on. They both left the room and walked away, knowing it was for the best. They couldn't help, not with something like this.

'Pyrrhus.' Said Castiel, breaking the short silence following Sam's story. 'Pyrrhus is a recruiter. He is one of few able to contact between all the after worlds. He is a communications liaison for those head of all the worlds. He takes the form of anyone he pleases, and on request, talks to his chosen subject. He cons them into joining Hell. If you accept, you spend eternity in Hell, essentially as a slave. If you decline, you become infected. In Heaven, we have not dealt with Pyrrhus for many years. It is so rare that someone from Earth is chosen and he does not affect us Angels; he's almost unheard of in Earth. Humans are too weak and do not last in Hell's punishment. A few were chosen in the early days but died from the infection after declining Pyrrhus' offer. It is a psychological infection he gives them. I am almost certain that this is who Sam encountered.' Castiel finished, scanning Sam up and down for any more signs or symptoms, whilst Sam sat resigned on the bed.

His feet were pointing inwards, and his head was hung almost in a sort of shame.

'That Son of a Bitch. Why the Hell didn't he just tell me…There's always a cure. Always Cas. I honestly don't care why he was chosen, I just need to know he isn't going to die.' Dean said, as the word 'die' slid down his throat like a razor blade.

Sam had fallen silent again.

'He will have to fight it.' Said Castiel 'It starts psychically, and Sam is already psychically sick, although he has fought it well. Next, he will be surrounded by thoughts of extreme guilt and depression. He is going to remember every bad memory he has ever encountered at once. It will be painful. Emotionally painful. Something I cannot help with.'

'Sam's a fighter…aren't you Sammy?' Dean said, trying not to listen to Castiel.

Sam looked up for a brief moment.

'Do you remember Mum died? Do you remember the dress she was wearing? It was white and lacy and cotton. It was so soft. Really soft Dean…' Sam said, with a weary, glazed over look in his eyes.

'It has started.' Said Castiel. 'You have to make him fight it. It will not be easy.'

Dean was still kneeling down, and his legs felt numb and tingly. He stood up and the blood rushed to his head. He sat down next to his brother on the bed, adopting the same pose. It was almost as if he was trying to put himself in his shoes, but to no avail.

'Sam. I'm not good at this; you know I'm not. No one ever taught me how to deal with this crap. I'm just Dean, just a hunter. So Sam, you gotta' help me out here.' Dean pleaded, his voice on the edge of breaking.

It was easy being the tough guy but tough didn't cut it when it came to emotional troubles. He could pop a dislocated shoulder back in no time, but to heal a mental wound was like finding a cure for cancer.

'Maybe I should try.' Said Castiel, with a determined look at his face.

It was the same look he had when he tried to chat up a girl back in Missouri months ago. The girl almost called the cops after he insisted on buying her a thousand roses from a roadside florist.

Dean felt helpless. Anything that anyone could do would be worth trying. He moved out the way, and stood a few feet away, watching Castiel take his position.

'Sam?' Castiel spoke gently. 'I met Pyrrhus once. He came to Heaven many years ago to recruit some Angels. He wasn't successful because of course us Angels are immune to its powers. He came to me in the vessel of a man I had not seen before. His hair was white, and his eyes were bright blue. His skin was glowing but he was no angel. He asked me whether I would come to Hell and he would give me my life back. I never understood what he meant because my life has only ever been as an Angel. But when I started to develop empathy and emotion, I understood. He was offering me the chance to start life again as a human, as a real human. I am, after all, a living creature on Earth. I have every right to be what I please, but an Angel is my destiny. He was offering to change my destiny. I, of course, declined. But when I see you, Dean and Bobby I feel…I feel regret. I will never have true love. I will never feel true passion. I will never cradle a baby and cry because it is beautiful. I will never live. Not like I want to. Not like I crave.'

Castiel finished speaking. The air was thick and dense with a loud silence. Sam hadn't been looking at Castiel, but as the silence grew louder, he tilted his head upwards and finally spoke.

'God.' Sam said.

'Yes.' Said Castiel 'It was God that came to me. How I envisioned him to be. He was taunting me. Making me look at the one thing I wish I could love like a human.'

It was so uncharacteristic. It was Castiel, speaking, expressing, like a human. Giving his whole heart to Sam, despite its lack of substance.


	15. The Fight

It was touching. To watch a near psychopathic Angel pour his heart out to a broken man was touching. But my God, it was strange, thought Dean.

After Castiel's story of his meeting with Pyrrhus, Sam had only spoken to say 'God.'

'But if you met Pyrrhus, why didn't you kill him?' Dean asked, hands tensely resting on his hips.

'I can't. No one can. He isn't real; he's almost like a ghost. It's far too complex to explain but he cannot die. He cannot be killed.' Castiel said, resigned.

'God.' Came Sam's voice.

'Sammy? I know, Cas said, it was God. Look, you gotta' fight whatever you're feeling.' Dean said, walking towards his brother.

'God.' Sam insisted.

It was clear he was trying to say something, but the infection had its reigns on him tight.

'Yes. God. What about God?' Castiel said.

'God! I don't…I don't believe in God.' Said Sam, with a very small smile on his face.

Castiel looked at him disapprovingly.

'I don't believe in God Cas. Since Jo and Ellen died, I just couldn't bring myself to believe in him. I lost my faith.' Sam said, getting stronger with every word. 'You said, Pyrrhus came to you as God. But God…God isn't real to me. So Pyrrhus isn't…he isn't even a thing is he?' Sam asked.

'No, he isn't.' Said Castiel 'Pyrrhus is like a hollow hologram. Like a flaw in the existence of reality. Nobody fully understands. All we know is that it is allies with the most important people who exist. He helps them recruit suitable candidates for roles all over existence. He is powerful, but only with allies. Alone, he is weak. He is just a transparent entity…a God without a vessel.'

'Damn.' Said Dean. 'He's not real if Sam doesn't believe in him.'

'But wait…' Sam said, the smile disappearing. 'Why did he want me for Hell? Am I truly pure evil?'

'No Sammy, you're not. You were just chosen, it's just part of a stupid design with for a massive flaw. You don't belong there.' Said Dean, holding his brother's shoulder.

'But all the things we've done Dean, all the lives we never saved. All the blood on our hands Dean.' Sam was almost in tears.

'No Sammy, come on. You know that's bull, look at me Sam.' Dean cried out, taking his brother's arms and shaking them as if to knock some sanity back into him.

'Dean I don't know what to think anymore.' He said, biting his bottom lip until a thin trickle of blood escaped. 'God Dean it hurts like Hell.'

'I know Sam but you gotta' fight it. Remember Sam, you caught Jessica's killer. We saved thousands of lives. We've saved our own lives. If it weren't for you, everyone you love would be gone. Bobby and me, we'd be gone if it wasn't for you. So, don't you tell me for one damn second you belong in that place. I freaking love you Sam don't you dare leave and go where I can't get you back.'

They were both in tears. Hot, heavy tears rolling down their cheeks. They had stopped fighting the emotion of distress and given into it, letting years of toughened exterior fall away.

'You think someone that belongs in Hell would be crying like a bloody girl?' Dean said thickly through a fresh bout of tears.

'N-no.' Said Sam, trying to control his semi-erratic breathing. 'NO I'm not GOING!' He shouted to no particular person.

'Good Sammy, you're not are you?' Dean said. 'We're gonna hunt, and we're gonna pick up cute girls, and eat pie, and you can pick the God damn music if you have to just don't you dare go to that damn place. Not this time.'

Sam dropped his shoulders and he let out a long breath. His eyes seemed to close a little and his lips parted. A heavy tension seemed to fall away from his body.

'I'm gonna' hold that against you.' Said Sam, as he looked up at Dean with a teary eyed smile.

'Oh God. Sammy. Christ.' Dean said, pulling his brother into a tight hug, making Sam wince and groan.

'I'm not really sure this is the appropriate time for blasphemy.' Said Castiel, standing proudly.

Sam and Dean pulled away from each other. The incurable seemed cured through a bond not even a God could break.

'Cas…you know what to do.' Said Dean.

Castiel knelt down beside Sam and rested a hand on his forehead. Both their eyes gently shut; Castiel took a deep breath in, preparing himself to heal a man who had almost lost his heart.


	16. The Warning

With both their eyes shut, the gentle iridescent glow seemed to coat both the men's skin. It rippled and spread over both their bodies. Castiel seemed to be struggling, but then, it was over. The glow stopped.

'I have done what I can.' Castiel gasped, out of breathe.

'Sammy? How are you…y'know...feeling?' Dean asked, concerned.

Sam looked up and opened his eyes. His body relaxed and his shoulders dropped as he let out a long breath.

'Tired. Hungry. Thirsty.' He said after a second, eagerly looking around.

'And why the Hell am I wearing Bobby's 'special' pants' He said with a grimace and as looked down.

Dean wasted no time. He pulled Sam into a hug. Not a manly and macho hug between pals but a full on loving embrace between two brothers.

'Whoa there Dean, I thought we said no chick flick moments.' Sam said with a slight fleeting grin.

'Yea. I know buddy. Just err. You know, nothing. Right, can you shower whilst I fix you up a sandwich? You smell like Bobby and sweat.' Dean said, trying to act tougher now he'd gotten his emotions out the way.

'Shower. Sure. Right, what day is it, have we missed the full moon? I have a plan with the Vegats.'

Dean laughed. He had forgotten that Sam had been so out of it; the last few days probably didn't mean anything to him. He had almost lost Sam, his only brother, to the worse thing possible. And there he was asking about a bloody full moon.

'God Sam, I forgot you were a freaking nut case before too. Sandy and Bobby'll deal with that. Don't you worry your pretty little ragdoll head.' Dean said, nudging his brother's shoulder encouragingly.

'Sandy? Another chick? Jeez, Dean, talk about repression as a child. Dad not let you have your hands in the cookie jar whilst I was gone?' Sam laughed.

'I'll have you know Sandy is Jo's cousin.,. it's a long story. And don't talk about women like that. You know how I respect them.' Dean defensively answered back.

Sam would've simply given Dean a 'look' if it wasn't for Castiel openly laughing at Dean's comment. It seemed he was becoming quite the human.

'Christ, Cas!? I didn't even notice you. When'd you get here? And why do you look so tired? I thought you were an Angel now. Fully fledged Angel.'

Castiel stopped laughing and sighed. He understood that Dean was purposely avoiding the subject of Sam's illness.

'I arrived not long ago. I heard someone in distress. Someone called, so I came.' He said simply, not elaborating.

'Alright, sure. Well If you boys don't mind I'd like to shower in peace. And Dean, where are my pants? Sam asked.

Dean handed Sam his jeans, which he had half-folded at the foot of the bed. He said no more and both him and Castiel walked out the room, leaving his brother in somewhat peace.

'OK spill.' Dean said to Castiel the moment he heard the shower turn on and Sam shout 'Jesus Christ!' in reaction to the shower temperature.

'Spill what?' Castiel asked, perfectly innocently.

'What you're hiding Cas. I know it's something, I'm no deity but I wasn't born yesterday.' Dean asked.

'I think I understand that reference. Very well. Your brother was hard to heal. He had wounds that went further than superficial human pains. The mental scars will always be with him.'

'So what, I'm gonna have to chuck him back in that asylum again? Keep him away from sharp objects? Help me out here.'

'I don't think sharp objects are your problem here Dean. Your problem is that your brother is…he is fragile, raw and exposed. He does not realise it but if something happens, something emotional, he can relapse. He needs time to heal.' Said Castiel, in a serious tone.

'Oh OK, so just hold back on death, slaughter, killing, and overwhelming murderous rampages? Why don't we just retire and have ourselves a little Brady bunch sit down whilst we're at it?'

'I don't know what bunches of Brady have to do with it, but I also was not born yesterday. You understand that you must protect him from emotional damage. You cannot die, or he will die.'

The humour vanished from the air quicker than lightening. Dean heard the shower turn off and Sam attempting to shave with Bobby's lethal razors. He felt a sudden urge to burst through the bathroom door and snatch the razor out his hand.

Instead, Dean walked away and told Bobby and Sandy what had happened. He conveniently missed out the part where he was emotionally unstable and could drop dead if he saw something his heart couldn't handle, or have a dream like he used to.

Sam dressed and towel dried his hair. Walking out of the bathroom and back to Dean, he could sense a certain awkward tension.

'Jeez, who died?' He joked, smiling at Sandy, oblivious she had seen him lose a good half of his dignity.

The silence that followed was enough to make Sam avoid eye contact with four people simultaneously.

'Alrighty then. So, Sandy, Dean tells me you're Jo's cousin? You kinda look like her.'

It seemed to go from one awkward subject to another.

'Err yea, I guess. Never really noticed it much. Dean, you need some help fixin' up that sandwich?' She said, running out of topics to discuss with the recently recovered brother.

'Yea, sure. Grab me that knife will ya?' Dean called from the kitchen door, gesturing to a butter knife on the table.

Sandy made an unnecessary amount of fuss handing the knife to Dean, and hovering in the kitchen for a moment.

Bobby was watching the whole fiasco from his wheelchair, whilst Sam awkwardly and innocently stood from a few feet away. Castiel was contently ignorant to everything going on.

'Alright boys it's time you pulled your head out your asses, I'm not sitting here in this god damn piece of crap so you can tip toe around each other. It's sit 'n tell time so stop dilly daddling and get your butt in here. Sandy, you too. We've both got some explaining to do.'


	17. The Confession

Dean licked his lips nervously as he handed Sam the sandwich and he promptly shoveled it into his mouth much to Dean's humour and relief. He wasn't ready to tell Sam the full extent of what had happened to him the last few days. It would overwhelm him at the very least. He was just thankful he hadn't asked why he was missing a good chunk of days out his memory.

Everyone congregated into the living room and found a place to sit. Castiel stood.

'Great, it's just like an AA meeting.' Dean said sarcastically as he scratched the back of his head.

'Well boys I wouldn't have to do this if it weren't for the fact nobody's content with withholdin' a little truth.' Bobby started. 'Whilst you were playin' doctors, Sandy and me had a little chat. It's time you boys knew the truth.'

'The truth? Dean?' Sam asked, unaware of the previous animosity that surrounded the whole situation.

'Put it this way Sammy, there's a reason we never met Sandy.' Dean said, raising his eyebrows at Bobby disapprovingly. He was thankful this wasn't about Sam's truth.

'Right Sandy, you can tell 'em about your Mom and Ellen. It's gotta' be done so it might as well come from you.' Bobby said, ignoring Dean's disapproving look.

Sandy chewed her lip, searching for the right words to start with.

'Right. I guess. But before I do, no one was a bad person. We're all different and I wantchoo' guys to know that.' She said, drawing her knees to her chest in an uncharacteristic manner.

'My Mom loved all of us. Whatever you hear, or whatever you wanna' believe, she loved us. She sure had a funny way of showing it. She had me young, and she was just going off to college. There was no way she was getting' rid of me. She was too religious. Well, she had me and my Dad ain't exactly the family kind. Anyway, she was younger than Ellen and when Ellen had Jo I was already a second grader. Ellen had the roadhouse and my mom had college. They were chalk an' cheese.'

Dean scoffed at the obvious similarity between him and Sam.

'When Jo was a toddler, Ellen started huntin' again and well, my mom wasn't too happy. She said she was selfish and that if she died, she wouldn't take Jo in. Ellen even asked my Mom to hunt with her but y'all can imagine the reaction to that one. Some time went by and Jo and me never really met properly until Bill's funeral in '95. Ellen asked one more time for help and my mom…well she said yes. But only because Bill was a good man. She left me with Jo whilst they went and hunted the thing that killed Bill with your Dad. A good few years passed and I dare say, my mom liked huntin'. It was a sure thing different was college life.'

It was Sam's turn to let out a small smile.

Then, when she let me help her hunt, she got real sick. Cancer. She got angry too, started blamin' the Devil for makin' her ill. She said it was karma for tryna' hunt demons and spirits and that God would't have any of it. She said she deserved to die because o' the choices she made. She gave up and well, I think she'd be turnin' in her grave if she knew what I was doin' now.'

Sandy lightly smiled and uncurled her self from her position, but her eyes were sad. No one had ever asked the story from her viewpoint before.

'Sandy, I stand by Julie's decision to help Ellen. I always did. No one gave her cancer, and you know it.' Said Bobby, resting a hand on her knee.

'I know Bobby. I know.' She said with a long sigh.

'Tell you what Sandy, you wanna' make your Mom proud? Let's go hunt some damn Vegats. You and me, tomorrow mornin', we'll head out early before sunrise and finish this job up. Another werewolf turned up dead last night, I forgot to mention.'

Bobby and Sandy shared a mutual silent agreement with a small comforting smile.

'Boys, I think Sandy's shared enough. It's been the longest day so chat amongst yourselves. Sandy, I'll see you tomorrow? Don't knock, I'll open the door for you in the mornin'.'

'Alright Bobby, I should go anyway, it's getting' late and the road's are icy.' She said as she stood up and grabbed her bag.

'See you later boys.' She called and she walked away, taking once last fleeting glance at Dean.

'I should depart also.' Said Castiel. 'I have no further use being here. I think I understand that you may not call if you need me. But I will come anyway.'

Before Dean and Sam had a chance to retaliate, he was gone.

'Always a mystery isn't he?' Said Bobby. 'Right, I'm a tired as an old ass and I got a promise to keep so don't disturb me.'

He wheeled out the living room and into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

'What now?' Asked Sam to Dean, walking towards the bedroom.

'Now? Now we sleep.' Said Dean, not even getting changed, slumping into one of the beds.

Sam pulled off his jeans and threw the cover over himself. He hadn't realised how weak he was until his muscles relaxed. Before he'd even had a chance to think why or cast his mind back, his eyes shut and he was asleep.

Dean was on the verge of falling unconscious, when suddenly a fleeting moment of fear passed over him. He couldn't sleep. Not if Sam was too. Sam could have a nightmare and he wouldn't be awake to convince him it was just a dream. Anything could happen.

1am…2am…he heard Sam breathing heavily…3am…5am… he heard Bobby leaving with Sandy….8am…he felt the floor boards creaking and Sam moving in his bed.

It felt like weeks when he was confident Sam was fully awake. He had slept like a baby through the night. Dean, on the other hand, was scared to close his eyes whilst the moon was still in sight. It was almost lunchtime before Sam got out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom.

Dean got up and went to the kitchen. Bobby and Sandy were still out. He poured him and Sam some coffee and went back to the bedroom.


	18. The Vegat

It was nearing the early afternoon when Bobby and Sandy returned. Sam and Dean had finished off a whole pack of bacon between them, as well as half a dozen eggs. Dean needed the energy from lack of sleep, and Sam just needed the comfort of food that wasn't the consistency of rice pudding. Both Sandy and Bobby looked tired, but by the looks on their satisfied faces, they had hadn't done a bad job of whatever they went out to do.

'Hey boys, you better have not had the rest of that bacon. I was lookin' forward to that.' He said, as he saw the empty packets. 'Well, we've got some pretty good news. The werewolves cooperated, Sandy made 'em. They've agreed to hunt down the rest of the Vegats for us, but we got one ourselves. A real one this time.' He said with a tired smile.

'Yea, it was exhilaratin', you boys missed a good party.' Said Sandy, pouring herself a large mug of black coffee and guzzling it down at a worrying pace.

'So, where is it then?' Asked Dean, trying to get a look outside.

'In the trunk. It's just a kid though, but it's just the form he's taken. You won't find anything human inside that, lemme tell you.'

'A kid?' Asked Sam 'We've got to kill a kid?' He said, with a shocked expression engraved on his face.

'Come on Sam, it's just its meat suit. It ain't ever a kid, and it never will be. Besides, I'm sure you've killed more innocent things than a vegat in a kid's form.' Bobby said, casually wavering over the fact that they would have to murder a child.

'How do we do it then?' Asked Dean, scratching the back of his neck.

'I gotta hold of a little werewolf blood from Sandy's quick actin', a silver blade dipped in that crap will have 'em pretty much dead. Then a good old fashioned salt 'n burn for precaution and Bob's your uncle.' Bobby said with a hearty chuckle.

To Bobby and Sandy, it was humorous. They had enjoyed it. The waiting and the research and the planning and finally, it was over. But this time, they got to be the ones to draw the curtains on a case. Just like old times.

'Right well bring the damn thing in, I've had enough waiting around for this. Take it round back, me and Sam'll meet you there.' Said Dean, grabbing him and Sam's coats.

The kid was about 10 or 11. But it had the feistiness of a hot-headed teenager. They had tied it up to a sycamore tree near where Bobby kept the spare tires and old iron. He just looked like a kid of the streets, scruffy brown hair, average height, average build, trainer shoes and some old jeans.

'He's designed to blend in. So don't be fooled by its appearances. Once it's dead, the design it's created won't exist anymore. Just consider it like a really crappy copy of the Mona Lisa. It's worthless and meaningless. Although kinda' like the original thinkin' of it. Who wants to do the honors then?' Bobby asked, waving the silver blade around.

'I'll do it. I've been a bit useless these past few days, so it's the least I can do.' Said Sam, taking the blade off Bobby and inspecting it. 'The heart, right?'

'Yea, right through the heart. Try not to miss, it'll be fightin' for its life otherwise.' Bobby replied.

Bobby, Sandy and Dean stood back. Better him than me, they all though. It's pretty tough love killing what looks identical to a kid.

'_You must protect him from emotional damage.' _

Castiel's voice echoes in Dean's mind like a bad playback. It was like he hadn't even given it a thought. Sam was about to plunge a silver blade through the heart of a child, and Dean hadn't even thought about the aftermath. What is he missed and the kid was begging for its life?

'Sammy, NO!' Dean cried out, plunging forward just as Sam has his 'predator' face on.

'Dean, what the hell?' Called Bobby, coming a little closer.

'Err, you know Sam. I wanna kill this. It's just, it's a pretty big deal you know. I can handle it Sam, hand the blade over.' Dean said, extending his hand for Sam to give the knife to.

'Dean, I can handle this.'

Sam wasn't handing over the knife any time soon. He fixed his gaze back on the silent boy.

'No Sam, you can't.' Dean said, forcefully this time.

He knew his brother was stubborn, but this wasn't a time to have it shown.

'Dean, if I wanna' kill this thing I will. What's the big deal here? I know it's not a real kid.'

'I know you know but what if you miss? I mean, jeez, that's gonna' hurt. Between you and me, we both know who's got the better aim here.' Dean joked.

It wasn't working. If anything, it was just making Sam more determined to kill this damn thing. He pulled back his arm once more.

'SAM YOU'LL DIE!' Dean yelled as a last desperate resort, and he grabbed his brother's shoulders to pull him away.

Three 'What!?'s surrounded Dean simultaneously.

'I'll die!?' Sam questioned back, the tone of his voice reaching dangerous level.

'Sammy, I didn't want you knowing. You weren't just sick. You told me about Jess's Dad coming to visit you, remember?' Dean questioned him carefully; one word out of line and the memory could come flooding back to him too heavy, too fast.

'That's what this is about? That thing? I'm better now. I'm fine. I wasn't born yesterday; I put two and two together when I saw Cas. I know what you did to save me Dean. I know everything.'

'Then why the Hell are you about to stick a knife in some boy's heart? You don't know what it might do to you. What if you can't…y'know…emotionally handle it.'

'That's bull.' Sam said simply. 'I can handle it.'

Sam turned around and looked at the boy's eyes. They were empty and hollow, like nothing lived inside him. He drew back his arm and with one powerful swing, plunged the blade into the cavity of its chest, piercing its heart.


	19. The Heart

The blade pierced through the Vegat's heart, but no blood pumped out its chest or spilt on the ground. Sam forcefully wrenched out the blade and its body exploded like a firework around them. Dust scattered the floor and air like a violent rainstorm cloud.

'Sam?' Dean questioned, moving close to his brother, putting a hand on his shoulder haphazardly.

A dramatic silence followed as the cloud of dust started to clear. Sam turned around, his eyes filled with sorrow and longing. He bit his bottom lip. His hand reached up towards his head, like comforting a terrible migraine.

'S-Sammy? Talk to me Sam.' Dean cried out, grabbing his other shoulders, fearing the very worse.

'I-I feel…' He began.

'What? What do you feel?' Dean asked, his eyes starting to fill up with tears. This was it. Sam was going to lose it and it was his fault.

Sam slowly lifted his head up, until his puppy-dog eyes were level with Dean's teary ones. Sandy and Bobby looked on anxiously at the two brothers. Then, in a split second, everything changed. Sam's face relaxed completely and his eyes were tearing up but not for the same reason as Dean's; he was laughing. Outright, gutsy laughing. Dean's mouth fell open. Is this really how he's supposed to have a profound emotional break?

'Oh my God Dean. What did you expect? My heart to break open or something? I'm not a lunatic and Hell Dean, I'm certainly not weak.' Sam said humorously, wiping the tears from his face.

Dean said nothing. His hand did all the talking when it collided with Sam's face, taking him by surprise and knocking him to his knees.

'I. Thought. You. Were. Going. To. Die.' Dean said through gritted teeth.

Sam stayed on the ground, kneeling in a pile of Vegat ash. His cheek was turning bright red and he was suddenly aware Bobby and Sandy were both staring.

'You hit like a girl Dean.' He said, getting up and brushing the ash of his jeans.

'Oh, don't add insult to injury or you're gonna' wish I hit you harder.' Dean replied angrily, walking away. He couldn't believe it.

'Alright now boys.' Sandy said, grabbing Dean's shoulder as he walked away, pulling him back. 'I ain't leavin' here until you two make it up. And you know Bobby's got a spare bed or two.'

Dean scowled. This was no way his fault. It was his brother, he had every right to be upset. Sam, on the other hand, knew guilt when he felt it.

'Alright, alright. Fine. Whatever. I didn't know you thought I was weak.' Said Sam.

'I don't think you're weak Sam! I think you're human!' Dean said, exasperated.

'You're lucky I'm taking that as a compliment. But next time, trust me. I'm your brother, not a stranger.' Sam replied.

Sam had always been the one to fully recognise the effect being brothers had on each other. It was a bond too powerful to fake. A bond that stayed even after death.

'Well, you guys must really want me gone. That's my job done.' Said Sandy, with a warm smile.

'OK, back inside, I'll let the rain clear this mess up.' Bobby said, wheeling himself back towards the house. 'And Dean, you look worse than Sam two days ago so go get some sleep boy.' He finished, noticing the strained look that Dean seemed to have since he returned.

Dean said nothing, he followed Bobby and Sandy back inside the house. Sam followed behind Dean, massaging his cheek. He had had way worse hits than that, but the sting of that went straight to the heart.

Sam placed the blade on the kitchen table, much to Bobby's disapproval.

'I wanna eat on that table Sam, not contract werewolf AID's.' Bobby said, putting the blade back in its pouch.

'So Sandy.' Dean started, 'Are you staying for dinner?'

'Er no, I think I'm headin' back real soon actually. Got my own hunts to finish. Besides, gotta clean out my trunk from all the bleedin' things that's been in there. That Angel o' yours made a right mess tryna' get comfy in there.' She replied with a smirk.

'Yea, that's Cas for you. You know, I never did say. I err, I'm glad things worked out for you in the end. You know, everyone forgave each other. Sort of.' Said Dean, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

'Yea well you know how family are like, you an' your brother got a good thing there. You may not see it, but I do. An' I know a good strong love when I see it.' She said, looking at Dean in the eyes. He knew them eyes, they were his Dad's eyes.

'Yea, family schamily, well sorry to see you go. Maybe, I dunno', if I'm in town I can call you? Or not…?' He said, completely averting her stare.

'Dean Winchester. Are you tryna' pluck up the courage to ask me somethin', cus' it sure seems you're stallin'.' She said with her eyebrows raised.

'No. OK yes. But not if you don't want to. How about I just walk you out and if you want to say bye, you can do?' Said Dean in a rushed manner. So much for Mr. Smooth.

'Alright, that seems fair. Lemme' just say bye to Bobby and your brother then, if I want, you can say bye to me to. If I want.' She said, half-laughing now.

She walked away to say her good-byes. God, thought Dean, this is humiliating. Why the Hell doesn't this girl just give me her number and never call me? It's not so hard for all the rest.


	20. The Goodbye

Sandy returned a few minutes later and saw Dean casually leaning against the still broken front door frame. She grinned as she thought about how 'cool' he was attempting to be when she could see he was biting his lip nervously. Not for lack of trying though, he was an attractive man.

'Oh Dean, how sweet of you to wait. Aren't you a gentleman?' She said smiling and linking to his arm in a friendly fashion.

'I've been called much worse.' He replied, accepting her arm link and guiding them both outside to her car.

They reached the car in a few short steps, no doubt dragged out on purpose to delay the goodbye.

'So I guess this is it. Now, before you go Dean, I wanna tell you somethin' 'bout you an' Sam.' She said, cocking her head.

'Alright, I'm all ears.' Dean replied, curious.

'Just…keep it. Keep what you got 'cause you never know when it's gonna' be torn away from you in a heartbeart, y'no? You and Sam…you're just so committed to each other, like a married couple I swear.' Sandy said with a small giggle.

Her nose wrinkled when she smiled like Jo's used to. Damn those Harvelle genes.

'Yea, I will. And I am sorry y'no? About what happened. If I could bring back her back I would. I mean, I've got Sam at least. I guess it's no fun when you're alone. I can visit time to time anyway? Check up on you.'

'That's sweet Dean, but I've been alone for longer than Bobby's been in that damn chair of his.'

'Yea, well you know there's always company when you need it most. And I dare say, it doesn't hurt to have someone. You have to help yourself sometimes.' Dean said, cringing inwardly at the amount of chick-flickiness going on, and it wasn't coming from a woman.

'Anyway' She said, trying to change the subject 'I'm on my way now but there's just something we haven't quite sorted out yet?' She said with another smirk.

'Oh yeah?' Dean asked 'And what's that?'

Sandy's smirked slowly faltered as her eyes met Dean's.

'I think you know.' She said, much more seriously this time.

She leaned in towards Dean until she could smell his leather jacket and the slight tinge of salty bacon on his breath. Dean didn't draw back. Her soft lips grazed against Dean's as he curled his arms around her waist. She indulgently smiled as she interlaced her hands around his neck as their lips met. They kissed slowly and cautiously, as if their lips would spark if rubbed too roughly. He moved his hands down her waist subconsciously, and she grabbed them from her waist and interlocked them with hers. There was no way he was going that far with her. Hot warm breath exchanged between mouths as their hands tightened together. It was frustrating Dean madly that he couldn't feel her body, and she knew it. Her lips were incredibly soft and luxuriously smooth for someone who hunts for a living, thought Dean, as he stopped thinking and sunk his mind into the kisses. The kisses sped up and became deep breathless exchanges between two caressing mouths. It was like he had waited for these lips for so long without knowing. Like breathing fresh air after being trapped underwater for hours. He was ready to pull their hands apart and glide his hands down her waist again when she roughly pulled away from him, leaving him breathless and speechless. He took a deep, much needed, breath in and opened his eyes, begging like a puppy dog.

'Goodbye Dean.' She said softly, her slight Southern accent sounding ever more pronounced.

'Wha-I-What about your number?' He said desperately, craving those lips again already as she pulled her hands away from his, breaking their interlocking hands.

'I'm sorry Dean. You know as well as I do, there's just not enough room in all of existence for two Jo's to be in love with you.' She replied with a sad smile.

'Jo wasn't…She didn't _love _me.' He said, stressing that word of commitment he hated so much.

'I wouldn't be so sure of that Dean Winchester.'

And off she walked, opening the door of her truck and jumping inside, like nothing had happened.

So this is what it feels like, thought Dean as he watched her drive away, this is what it truly feels like to all the girls he walked away from.

He walked back to Bobby's house and licked his lips, savoring her taste. She had tasted like tequila and coffee. He began to strut, his jeans feeling uncomfortably tight.

**Author's Note: OK, so I was thinking this was actually going to be the last chapter. I wanted to thank everyone who commented, favoured and followed the story. Now, because I'm happy with the feedback I've received I'm considering doing either a sequel or at least another long FanFic. They always say practice is the best teacher, so I'm sure my next will be better than this one. I know there are mistakes and flaws but I think people realise that there will be because this is my first Fanfic. So, if anyone has any requests either PM me or comment. I'd love to do another Sick-type fic. Maybe this time Dean's not too well? In this Fanfic, I was trying to highlight the importance of how emotional pain can break a person just as physical pain can. And as a final disclaimer, I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters in the fictional drama. Sandy, Julie, Pepper (from Chapter Two) and the Anima Vegats (An-im-ma Vay-gats) are my OC's and are not canon. And a special thanks to a good friend, Holly, who helped beta a couple of chapters and provide the support I needed. **


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